Page 130 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Simon stood, picking up his crumpled shirt from the chair where she had thrown it the previous evening, and pulling it over his head.

‘You wound me with the ease with which I am cast out, discarded,’ Simon said, his hand on the door-handle. ‘Until tonight, my sweet.’

The rest of Alice’s day was productive, but she had the feeling of wanting to rush through everything so she could return home to Simon. It was a ridiculous idea, for he wouldn’t be home from the solicitor until after she had finished at the orphanage.

At three o’clock she instructed Drummond to take her to St Benedict’s. Frank Smith sat on the narrow bench at the front of the carriage beside Drummond, primed to step in if there were any trouble.

The journey through London was uneventful, and before long the carriage stopped outside the orphanage. It was an overcast day, and the slums looked even less inviting with their narrow streets in shadow.

‘I shall be about an hour. Keep vigilant,’ Alice instructed Drummond and Smith before knocking on the door of the orphanage.

Mrs Phillips welcomed her in and showed her through to the small room at the back of the building that acted as the matron’s bedroom and office. It was sparsely furnished, with bare floorboards and nothing on the walls. There was a single bed in the corner of the room and two straight-back chairs by a little table. At the foot of the bed was a small trunk, and on the back of the door a hook for a coat. Mrs Phillips might be matron of the establishment, but her accommodation wasn’t much more comfortable than that of the children in her care.

Alice knew the woman’s role carried huge responsibility but did not attract a large salary, especially in a small, poor establishment like St Benedict’s. Mrs Phillips would eat the same food as the children and might even be restricted in when and why she could leave the premises.

One of the girls brought in a heavy teapot on a tray with two cups, and Mrs Phillips served Alice.

‘Thank you for coming, Lady Westcroft. I have been thinking about what you suggested,’ Mrs Phillips said as she handed a cup to Alice.

They talked for more than an hour, discussing all the issues Mrs Phillips had noted down, from small things like the purchase of more slate boards for the classroom to much larger concerns such as sanitation and access to clean water. By the end of their discussion, Alice felt exhausted but excited to share Mrs Phillips’s ideas with the London Ladies’ Benevolent Society.

At five o’clock, she bid Mrs Phillips farewell and stepped out into the warm late-afternoon air. Alice was preoccupied, wondering how best to present all the issues to the other ladies and she stepped out into the street without looking.

It was uncommon to see people on horseback in this part of the city. Most people travelled on foot, and those who had to pass through preferred the safety of a carriage. She looked up too late: the horse was almost upon her, and Alice saw the rider pull on the reins sharply, causing the horse to rear up in fright. Hooves thundered past her face, missing by mere inches as a firm hand on her shoulder pulled her backwards to safety.

The whole incident lasted less than a few seconds, but Alice felt as though she had been running for a whole hour. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and her breathing was ragged and uneven. The man on horseback called something incomprehensible and probably unkind and carried on along the street as if nothing had happened.

As she regained her composure Alice turned to the person who had pulled her back.

‘Thank you—’ she began, the words dying in her throat. Standing very close, a malicious glint in his eye, was the man who had watched them the time she and Simon had come to the orphanage.

‘You’re welcome, miss. Can’t have a pretty lady like yourself trampled under a horse’s hooves, brains splattered about the cobbles,’ he said, his voice low so only she could hear.

Alice swallowed and glanced down, feeling a cold chill spread through her as she caught the glint of metal in his hand. He was holding a small knife in the narrow space between their bodies, the tip pointed at her abdomen. The metal was dull and looked well-used, and Alice thought she saw a crust of blood around the hilt.

‘Don’t call out,’ the man said calmly. ‘Your best chance is if those two fools on top of the carriage do not come over to see what is happening.’

Glancing up, she saw Drummond’s face. As yet he was not climbing down from the carriage, but he was looking over at her with an expression of puzzled concern on his face. Alice knew it would only be a matter of seconds until he was climbing down to investigate why she hadn’t crossed the road and got into the safety of the carriage.

‘Now, I did not have to save your life there, miss, but I am an upstanding citizen, and I think a good deed like that deserves a reward.’

Alice nodded, wishing she had brought her coin purse so she could have just handed it over without any delay.

‘I do not carry money on my person,’ she said truthfully. It was foolish to carry money in areas such as this where half the population were desperate enough to steal if the temptation were right.

‘That is a shame, miss. I suppose we’ll have to think of something else.’ He looked her over, grunting as he saw she was not wearing a necklace or earrings. The only jewellery she had was the wedding band on her finger. ‘You’d better start with that gold ring,’ he said, motioning at it with his knife.

Alice looked down, reluctant to part with the ring Simon had given her on the day of their wedding. It was symbolic of so much, and she did not want to part with it, but she knew compliance was the best way to walk away unscathed from this situation.

She reached down with her right hand to try to pull the ring off, grimacing at the resistance. As she worked on pulling it over the knuckle, she saw Drummond and Smith finally realise there was something wrong. They moved fast for men trained as household servants, dashing across the road to come to her aid. The man who was stealing from her glanced up and saw them coming, reaching out to grab the ring from Alice. As he did so, Smith arrived and went to throw his whole body weight at the thief. The culprit ducked under Smith’s arm and quickly struck out, clearing a path through the middle of them. To Alice’s dismay he disappeared into the crowd within seconds.

‘Thank you,’ she said, turning to Drummond and Smith. They were both looking at her in horror. Slowly, not wanting to know what sight awaited her, she looked down. A bloom of blood was spreading across her pale blue dress, staining the material and seeping out around the blade of the knife that was still buried in her abdomen. ‘There’s a knife,’ she said, feeling her whole body stagger to the left at the sight of the blood and the thought of the wound that must be underneath.

Instinctively her hand gripped the handle of the knife, thinking to pull it out, but Drummond reached out to stop her.

‘Leave it,’ he said forcefully. ‘We need to get you back home and then a doctor can remove the knife. Do not even think about touching it.’ Her abdomen was starting to throb and hurt, and she marvelled that she had not felt the knife slide into her flesh.

Drummond lowered his shoulder and half carried, half dragged Alice to the carriage. Carefully he helped her inside, instructing her to lie across the seats and avoid any unnecessary movement.